


Aliens Made Them Do It

by foolish_mortal



Series: Hannibal SGA tropes [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alien Rituals, Aliens Made Them Do It, Alternate Universe, F/F, Fake Marriage, Flower Crowns, M/M, Stargate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolish_mortal/pseuds/foolish_mortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has married Hannibal Lecter on forty-three planets already. What's one more? A Stargate Atlantis AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aliens Made Them Do It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RosemarysBabysitter (TashaElizabeth)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaElizabeth/gifts).



> Thanks to rosemarysbabysitter for all the tumblr Stargate AUs. I need all of the Stargate AUs. Aliens made them do it is probably my favorite trope that came out of the SGA fandom.

"This is getting old," Will grumbles. "Why don't they ever ask me to marry _you_? Or Jack?"

Katz hefts her P90 a little higher against her hip. A lacy flower garland is hanging around her neck, incongruous with her BDUs. "Because they know Jack's already married to the leader of the Athosians, and I'm not alien-ritual-cheating on Alana."

"You're afraid of her, aren't you?" Will asks knowingly.

"Hell yes," Katz answers. "Woman has a lot of sharp things in the infirmary. I don't want to go under on her operating table and never come back. What are you complaining about? You're marrying a doctor."

"For the hundredth time," Will complains. He wishes he'd never gone close to that stupid tablet that had glowed a damning Ancient blue the second he touched it. From Jack's foul mood, he's been thinking similar thoughts.

Katz does a quick check on her fingers. "Forty-third," she corrects, and Will suspects they've got a bet going at ladies poker night. "Couple more, and you're in the major leagues."

"This isn't baseball, Beverly."

"Why? You guys make it to third base yet?" she asks slyly and laughs when Will shoves her.

Jack finishes exchanging niceties with the local chief and stomps over to where they're standing. The bright pink flower behind his ear looks like it's afraid to be there. "What's the hold up, Will? We're burning daylight."

"Graham's getting cold feet," Katz quips.

"No," Will interrupts quickly. "Nothing like that, Jack. Just a little too much déjà vu."

"You're telling me," Jack thunders. "At least these people don't seem the hostage taking type."

Will blanches and remembers the last planet, where the locals tried to exchange him for an unlimited trade in tava beans, the Pegasus galaxy's version of a chemical stimulant. Katz had entertained them with amusement till the spears and torches had come out, and then there had been a lot of running and Jack throwing him bodily through the stargate. 

The science team still reminisces about that mission with regret. Much as they love having Will as their own personal Ancient switch operator, Jimmy Price misses coffee something fierce. Jack's CSO is a ruthless bowtie-wearing son of a bitch.

Katz snaps her fingers in Will's face. "Hello? P4X-857 to Graham. You gonna make an honest man of our good doctor or what?"

"Funny," Will mutters and bats away her hand. "How long did it take you to come up with that?"

Katz doesn’t have time for a last sarcastic remark as one of the local women takes Will by the arm and guides him up the steps to the dais of the temple where he has to be sanctified before he's allowed to step inside. Jack thinks it's an Ancient lab or munitions facility given its size. It's worth their time. Certainly worth another loveless marriage, Will thinks to himself wryly as he comes face to face with Dr. Lecter, who's waiting for him at the dais.

Dr. Lecter looks regal and poised and entirely unridiculous with a purple ring of flowers crowning his impeccably smooth hair. Will's own diadem is crooked and shedding petals down the back of his neck.

"Hi," Will says and doesn't make eye contact as Dr. Lecter takes his hands. His grip is cool and steady, grounding. He was a psychiatrist before he branched into xenoanthropology, Will remembers.

Dr. Lecter smiles back at him serenely. "Hello, Will."

At least one of them is okay with this, Will thinks as the priestess begins a low toneless ceremonial chant. He and Lecter are friendly enough. They eat together in the mess – Dr. Lecter often prepares his own food from the weird Ancient garden he's cultivating on one of the city piers, and he always brings enough to share. Sometimes he and Will practice talking to each other in Ancient; Will's speech is halting but precise, and Dr. Lecter speaks with a fluidity and ease that sounds almost native, if there were other Ancients still around to compare. Sometimes they share long untranslateable silences.

It's as close to an understanding as Will has ever known from anyone, apart from the city. Atlantis is the only place that feels like home. Will adores her from the top of her delicate spires to the spreading snowflake inlets that chatter with overturning surf as the city rocks gently in the middle of the ocean. The constant white noise in Will's head feels like a connection instead of an aberration, a transmission issue that's finally breached the light-years of distance and resolved itself into a clear musical whispering that's just out of Will's comprehension.

Dr. Lecter's hands tighten on his, and Will blinks. Dr. Lecter has been staring at him, his eyes half-lidded. Will scans his face and then turns to the priestess. "What?"

The priestess indicates them gravely with her hands, one on the right, one on the left, and then brings them together. The look on her face is expectant and amused.

"Kiss him, dummy!" Katz shouts from the grass. "I don't even have to speak Ancient to know that."

The intent, if not the meaning of her words must resonate, because the rest of the assembled crowd laughs softly. The line between Jack's eyebrows hasn't eased, and he has one finger casually on his gun. He gives Will a sharp nod.

Will nods back and turns to Dr. Lecter with his breath stuck in his throat. They've done this before. They've shared vinegary wine in matching glasses, walked around fires with bright furls of cloth spanning between them, and once, memorably, spilled blood together. Will is intimately familiar with the proximal scent of Dr. Lecter's cologne and the prickle of his stubble. It shouldn't feel so new every time they kiss, so startling and so keen. Dr. Lecter's touch is gentle as he cups Will's jaw and kisses him carefully on the mouth.

Will's mouth parts involuntarily against the warm sturdy press of his lips. Dr. Lecter always kisses with intent, as if he means to impart Will with the knowledge of something, a word or a taste. Will closes his eyes. Dr. Lecter smells like jasmine and honeysuckle. Will kisses him back a little harder than maybe a friend ought to, but they're already married on forty-three other planets, so Will can be excused a little enthusiasm, repetition breeding familiarity. He wonders if Dr. Lecter ever thinks about kissing him when they're not off-world.

Will sighs as he pulls away. His nose is itchy with alien pollen. "Dr. Lecter," he starts and then swallows. "Hannibal."

Dr. Lecter's breath wafts across his cheek. His hand creeps into Will's half-curled palm. They're holding hands, in front of Will's commanding officer, no less. "Yes, Will?"

Will hesitates and then ducks forward for a second kiss, quick and chaste, just because he can. It's a promise and a punctuation, a beginning and end all at once. Too late, he hears the tell-tale click of Katz's mini MALP camera.

Ladies poker night, Will despairs and hopes Prurnell reprimands Katz on misuse of expedition resources.


End file.
